


Burial Ground

by Tarlan



Category: Silver Wolf (1999)
Genre: Gen, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-26
Updated: 2006-09-26
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:56:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy has to protect the Old Indian Burial ground from Halloween pranksters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burial Ground

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story for the MBfic Halloween challenge. I'm afraid it's fairly predictable stuff - sorry - hope you enjoy it anyway.

Roy hated this time of year. By all accounts it ought to be no different from any other time but there was something about this particular holiday that always caused him some grief. He remembered reading about the trouble the English Tourist Board had keeping the crazies off Stonehenge during the Summer Solstice... well, this was his equivalent.

The old Indian burial ground had gained some sort of reputation over the decades of being the most haunted place in these parts, several tales of ghostly apparitions, strange happenings and other paranormal events sparking the interest in the local student population. They dared each other to go there on this one night of the year, trampling across the remnants of old graves, disturbing the wildlife that had taken refuge there.

The biggest problem was the local Indian Council. They were not exactly a strong show of hands at the best of times but they got quite animated when they discovered their heritage was being trampled underfoot by a crowd of drunken high school students bent on an adrenaline kick.

Roy put the phone down and sighed. The council representative had been quite stern, insisting that the rights of his people were respected, demanding a greater presence by the rangers and, if necessary, by the local police to ensure that the students left the cemetery alone. Roy knew what the chance of that happening was. The police had enough to deal with at the best of times -and Halloween often brought out the crazies. There was only one man available to stand guard over the cemetery during the long All Hallows Eve - himself. Everyone else had managed to find some excuse of other to avoid that particular duty.

Roy packed up some warm clothing and the basic survival and camping equipment, preparing himself for a night out in the open at what had to be the creepiest place this side of the fictitious Salem's Lot.

"Jesse? You sure you don't want to come along?"

Jesse gave him a look that could only be described as 'you must be kidding to even think of asking'. Roy sighed. Well, it had been worth a shot.

As he packed the small tent and bedroll into the back of the truck he reflected on how close he and Jesse had grown since the time Jesse had stayed with him after his father died. Before then getting Jesse to agree to visit his Uncle Roy had been a major trial, the boy shocked by the lack of modern appliances. Now Jesse came often - and willingly - spending part of his school breaks or even the odd long weekend. Roy stepped back into the cabin he called home and gazed at the boy lounging around on the couch, a book in one hand, a bar of candy in another.

"You gonna be okay out here by yourself?"

Jesse snorted. "Better than you."

"Yeah, right." Roy gave him a sour look then turned away, glancing back when he heard his name called.

"Uncle Roy, hope you got your cross and holy water."

Roy sighed deeply at the sniggers that followed him out of the door, shaking his head in resignation.

***

Two hours later he had his small camp all set up just within the circumference of the old burial ground. He collected lots of the dry twigs and leaves and built a small fire, setting the matches aside ready to light it once dusk fell over the forest. Roy watched as the cold light of the autumn day gradually dimmed, the call of birds stopped, the air hanging thick and silent as the last of the daylight faded away, night settling over the forest like a blanket. He struck a match and lit the small fire, setting a coffee pot on to boil.

To be honest, now he was out here it did not seem quite so bad, just a little colder than he was expecting but then, the forest always became cold once the sun had set. Small noises started around him, the call of nocturnal life. An owl hooted, the flap of its wings heavy on the silent air as it swooped towards its unsuspecting early evening meal.

Roy poured a cup of the pseudo-coffee, sipping at the hot liquid, hissing as it burned his tongue. He had been experimenting with some of the local plants to see if he could recreate a natural coffee substitute. He glanced at the black fluid and pursed his lips. The consistency was right, the colour was good but the taste still needed a little something extra. He pulled the heavy blanket tighter around his broad frame and stared into the flickering flames, imagining all sorts of dramas being played out in the tongues of fire that licked the cold night air.

An hour passed, then two but Roy contented himself with reading the latest copy of National Geographic by the light of the fire. A snap of twigs brought his head up. He tilted his head one way then another, hoping to catch some clue as to what was out there beyond the light cast by the small campfire. Giggling and the sound of a glass breaking followed by cussing brought a deep sigh falling from Roy's lips. He closed the magazine, grabbed his flashlight and stood up.

Roy took maybe a dozen steps forward, playing the flashlight over the eerie cemetery, trying hard to ignore the strangely grotesque shapes that sprang out from the darkness.

"Okay. Whoever it is, this is protected land so I suggest you go find somewhere else to play."

Another snap of twigs came from behind and to the side, and Roy spun round, the torch flashing into the bushes, lighting up the face of a pretty young girl with long blond hair. She giggled into her hands, her childlike surprise at getting caught bringing a smile curving his own lips.

"That you, Jeanie? You know better than to come out here. Who's with you? Jeff Ballen?"

Roy flashed the torch around, grinning as, one by one, the kids came out into the open. He shook his head and sighed.

"Hey, Mr McLean. We're just fooling around."

Roy nodded his head, still grinning. "Well... much as I don't mind you kids playing in the forest, you know how the Indian Council feels about you being here, tonight of all nights."

The kids bowed their heads, a little ashamed and yet still mainly unrepentant.

"Hell, go on. Get back to town with you. There must be plenty of Halloween parties or even a little trick or treating you could be doing."

Jeff Ballen gave Roy a huge unrepentant grin and yelled across the clearing.

"Trick or Treat?"

Roy laughed and pulled a handful of candy bars out of his pocket.

"Looks like you got yourself a treat."

He handed out the bars to the kids and then sent them packing, still shaking his head as they shouted and whooped their way back down the trail to where they had left their car. It never ceased to amaze him how boys like Jeff Ballen could be so adult one moment then behave like a small kid the next.

"Thank you."

Roy spun around as the soft voice reached him, heart hammering in his chest. He found a tall Indian standing beside the long collapsed remnants of a wooden platform.

"Jeez, you scared me. Chief Daniels send you out here?"

Gordon 'white bear' Daniels was the head of the Indian Council and the most vocal of those demanding protection for the ancient burial land. The man tilted his head and grinned. Roy eyed the man cautiously, noting the more traditional dress and the long, straight dark hair held back by a beautifully beaded band. He had often admired the artwork of the local Indian population, had even purchased a few pieces to brighten up the cabin. Roy shivered as a cold breeze swept across the clearing and pulled his jacket tighter across his body.

"Look. It's pretty cold out here so, unless you got a better set- up, you're welcome to come join me. Could use the company."

The Indian grinned, white teeth glinting brightly in the glow from the flashlight. They picked their way back to Roy's campsite and dropped down beside the flickering fire. Roy dug around and produced something that would make do as a mug, filling it with the thick pseudo-coffee that Roy had been experimenting with, and handed it to the Indian.

"Hmmm... it's good."

Roy grinned, pleased that someone finally liked his coffee substitute.

"By the way, I'm Roy McLean, one of the park rangers..."

"I know."

"And you might be?"

"They call me Red Wolf."

"Aah."

The name did not mean anything to Roy but then he had only met a few members of the council even though he had been working here for the past seven years. They sat in companionable silence, sipping at the hot brew, listening to the calls of the night. Eventually, Roy broke the silence.

"So. What do you do? When you're not playing security guard on Halloween?"

Roy gave the Indian a big grin, tilting his head questioningly at the small smile playing about the other man's lips.

"Hmmm... you would call me a medicine man."

Now that sparked Roy's interest: a shaman. He knew some of the tribe still relied on the old ways, carrying on the traditions handed down from generation to generation. It was a shame that most of the younger generation had drifted away, too wrapped up with modern life, wanting their televisions, CD players and computer games. Roy wondered, for a moment, if the boys still had to pass some rite of passage to gain adult status in the eyes of the tribe. He smiled, remembering his own rite of passage as his father dropped him into the middle of nowhere on his sixteenth birthday. He had wandered lost, cold, hungry and alone for ten days before his older brother had 'rescued' him - and even with food in his stomach and a map in his hand it had still taken him another two days to get home. He smiled in fond remembrance of the brother he had so recently lost.

Roy leaned forward, a thousand questions running through his head but, instead, he gave the Indian a regretful smile as he heard the approach of more footsteps, preceded by a lot of giggling and shouting. Roy grabbed the flashlight for the second time and stood up. He moved purposefully back towards the center of the sacred burial ground, feeling the presence of Red Wolf behind him, and gave one young girl the fright of her life. Her scream echoing around the forest, every living creature freezing in its tracks until the sound had died away and they deemed it safe to carry on with their nocturnal habits. The other two boys and girl collapsed into hysterical laughter.

"All right. All right. You've had your fun. You know you're not supposed to be out here."

His smile took the sting out of his words and he soon had them on their way back to town. Roy shook his head then noticed the empty beer cans they had dropped. He shouted after them.

"Hey, what have I told you about littering? These can hurt the wildlife." Roy sighed, his words falling on deaf - and drunken - ears. He turned back and gave his Indian companion another grin before leaning down to gather up the garbage. "You know, they don't mean to be disrespectful. It's just youthful exuberance."

As Roy took another step forward, intent on returning to the relative warmth and comfort of the campfire he lost his footing as the earth disappeared beneath his right leg. There was an audible crack as the bone splintered and Roy cried out in pain, hands clawing at the still shifting soil as he realized he must have stepped onto the weakened roof of a burrow. He could not get a hand hold, the dirt shifting, slowly covering his face, suffocating him.

Suddenly, strong hands were gripping him, preventing him from falling any further. He dragged air into his lungs and gazed up into the almost expressionless face, seeing a glint of something surreal in the dark eyes. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the jagged pain that stabbed along the length of his leg, breathing heavily as he was hauled out of the hole. Red Wolf helped him up, easily supporting his weight as he half- carried Roy back to the campfire. Roy gasped as Red Wolf manipulated the leg, his head swimming as he came close to losing consciousness. His words were husky with pain.

"Reckon it's broken."

Roy reached out and grabbed the strong arm, drawing the other man's attention. Roy's eyes were filled with shock as he recalled the dark hole that had tried to swallow him up, positive that it would have been his grave if the other man had not been there to haul him out before the rest of the roof collapsed over him, burying him alive.

"Thank you. Don't know what I would have done if..." Red Wolf placed two fingers over his lips, hushing his words. Roy nodded then pointed over to his jacket. "In the pocket... radio unit. If you hand it over I'll call in a rescue team to get me back to town."

Red Wolf grabbed the jacket with some reluctance, searching through the pockets until he pulled out the object Roy needed then he sat back, cross-legged, and listened as Roy called in for assistance.

About half an hour later Roy heard his name being called. He grinned at Red Wolf.

"Looks like you'll have to finish guarding this place by yourself for the rest of the night... just don't be too hard on the kids. They're young."

Red Wolf nodded and grinned then he reached across and squeezed Roy on the shoulder.

"I will go meet with your people, lead them back to you."

Roy nodded his thanks and watched as the figure was quickly swallowed up by the darkness.

Moments later the rescue team arrived and dropped down beside him.

"Jeez, Roy. Can't leave you to do a simple guard duty without you getting injured."

"Where's Red Wolf?"

"Who?"

"The man from the Council... saved my life. If he hadn't been here..."

"Haven't seen anyone, Roy. Sure you're not hallucinating? Did you hit your head?"

"Been sharing my coffee with the man! Look!" Roy pointed across the fire and frowned. The makeshift mug was sitting there, but it was filled to the brim with untouched coffee. "Didn't think my coffee was that bad..."

Roy groaned when they finished splinting his leg, bracing himself when they placed him onto a stretcher. Roy watched as the team carefully put out the fire.

"You can make arrangements for someone to come out to collect your gear later. Anything you desperately need before we take you out of here."

Roy indicated towards the magazine and, within another few minutes, he found himself being carried away from the old burial ground.

***

The following day dawned brightly, the autumn sun glinting through the shuttered blinds, its golden glow reflecting off the pale beige walls. His leg was plastered from thigh to toe and elevated... and he was uncomfortable and in pain. Gratefully, Roy swallowed the pain meds offered to him by a nurse then sank back into the plumped up pillows. George had promised to stop by his cabin and pick up Jesse a little later and he hoped George had remained good to his word and not gone out there worrying Jesse before hand. As far as Jesse was concerned, his Uncle Roy would not be back until mid-morning. There seemed little point in getting the boy all upset in the middle of the night when Jesse could do nothing until morning anyhow.

He wondered if George had remembered to go back out to the old burial ground and gather up his belongings. He felt a little annoyed that he had not been able to watch over the cemetery, but his conscience was eased by the knowledge that the Indian Council had sent Red Wolf to protect their interest.

The morning passed slowly. Jesse had come in to sit with him for a while before charging off to do the chores Roy had asked of him. Roy smiled as he remembered the eagerness to please. This Jesse was a far cry from the city boy who had moped about Roy's cabin after the death of his father, barely able to raise himself from his bed each morning. The smile widened to a grin. Wolves seemed to be playing a big part in his life right now. It was a big silver wolf that had drawn Jesse out of his shell following the trauma of losing his father - and now a 'red wolf' had ensured the boy did not retreat back into that shell, by saving his uncle.

A knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts before they plunged into full remembrance of those few horrifying moments when the ground had collapsed beneath his feet.

"Come in."

Chief Gordon Daniels paused on the threshold then came forward and took the indicated seat by the bed. Roy narrowed his eyes, noticing the edginess in the other man.

"Everything okay out at the burial ground?"

"All is fine."

Roy nodded his head and chewed on his lower lip. Although he knew Chief Daniels, their relationship was professional only. They had sparred a few times at various Park meetings, the Chief's eagerness to preserve as much of his people's history as possible sometimes conflicting with the needs of the authorities. For the most part Roy had found himself caught between the Tribe and the Town folk but, fortunately he had always managed to help them reach a compromise.

"Must admit I'm surprised to see you here."

"You asked about one of my people."

"Red Wolf. I wanted to know where I could find him so I could thank him properly for saving my life."

"Hmmm." The Chief opened up the book in his hand and withdrew a photo. He handed the print over to Roy. "Is this the man?"

Roy studied the photo, too polite to mention how grainy the shot was, but he recognized Red Wolf immediately and nodded. "Yeah. Said he was your medicine man."

"Red Wolf was a shaman, and he was a great warrior."

"Was?"

Roy felt a stab of cold fear, suddenly afraid that Red Wolf had met with an accident. The ground could have been riddled with those old burrows - and it would explain why he had not met the rescue party.

"This photo was taken in 1906. Red Wolf was my great grandfather and he was the last man to be buried in the sacred ground."

Suddenly everything made sense; the old style clothing, the strange glint in the man's dark eyes... the way the glance of the second batch of kids had not even flickered towards the man standing so silently behind him. Roy felt a shiver along his spine, realizing that he owed his life to a man who had died long before he was even born.

****

 **Two months later:**

Snow lay thick and heavy on the ground as Roy made his way along the barely visible track to the old burial ground. He paused when he reached the edge, staring into the strangely still clearing. The snow had muffled the sounds around him, silencing the cries of the birds and other wildlife as the animals huddled into their warm burrow and nests. Roy walked forward, leaning heavily on a walking stick, until he came to the place where he had first seen Red Wolf. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a beautifully crafted necklace and a bag of his substitute coffee. He placed both items onto the collapsed burial pyre then stood back, looking around the clearing as if half-expecting Red Wolf to come walking out of the shadows.

"Thank you."

With those two words said, Roy turned and carefully made his way back, leaving the old burial ground to the spirits.

THE END


End file.
